


Working in Teams

by Seph_on_an_Irrational_Planet



Category: Star Trek: Discovery, Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Missing Adventure, Poor Pike has to deal with him all on his own, Q Shenanigans, Some Cursing, also how to run a ship full of people, some musings on what leadership truly means
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 06:14:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24400057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seph_on_an_Irrational_Planet/pseuds/Seph_on_an_Irrational_Planet
Summary: Captain Pike needs to learn a thing or two about leading a team before he can use the Discovery crew effectively. Q intends to teach him by replacing the Discovery crew with... himself. Set somewhere around season 2 episode 8. Crack premise, but meant entirely sincerely.
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is mainly to fix an issue I have with Discovery where the bridge crew never seems to meet up and discuss problems and possible solutions. Pike frequently bypasses Saru, Stamets gets forgotten about in engineering, and no one seems to know what other characters are doing during a crisis. So here's some Q fic to fix it.
> 
> *I did some edits to chapter one as of 8/17 to clean up some continuity issues.

Christopher Pike jerked awake to the sound of “Bridge to Captain Pike” coming over the speakers in his quarters. He groaned, rubbing his eyes, and glanced at the chronometer on the bedside table. Three hours of sleep was the most he’d been able to grab at once in a few days. Between investigating the Red Angel, chasing Spock across Federation space, and fleeing from the very people he thought he could trust, there hadn’t been enough time to get out of his uniform much less rest. He sat up and collected himself for a long moment before responding.

“Pike here.” A voice he didn’t associate with the usual bridge crew greeted him.

“We have a situation, sir. Request your presence on the bridge.” Pike sighed, face in his hands. _What am I doing? My ship and crew are light-years away, I’m dancing on the edge of insubordination with Section 31, my first officer is accused of murder, and the fate of the quadrant hangs in the balance. Who did I piss off to end up here?_ He tried to clear his head before he straightened his uniform and moved towards the door.

“I’m on my way.”

-

As soon as the turbolift doors opened, he knew something was wrong. He had left Commander Saru in charge of the bridge after they had jumped to warp, but the person sitting in the captain’s chair had a head full of dark hair. In fact, everyone on the bridge did, with identical faces to match. It took Pike a second to recognize the face he saw.

“Q!” he shouted. The Q manning the station to the left of the captain’s chair visibly jumped before glancing back at him.

“Captain on the bridge!” he called, uncharacteristically formal. The rest of them turned to face him with six identical pairs of eyes. The one in the captain’s chair stood, and moved to one side with an expectant look on his face.

“Captain,” he began, with none of the usual mirth that marked visits from Q. “We’re six hours at maximum warp from the nearest starbase, assuming that’s where the nearest Federation ship would be diverted from to intercept us, but there’s a problem with the-”

“Cut the crap, Q!” Anger flaring, Pike strode to the captain’s chair, getting in Q’s face. “What is this? Bring my crew back _now._ ” The man didn’t break character for a second, frowning in confusion.

“Sir?” he asked. The Q station at the helmsman’s console called out as the ship shuddered.

“Captain, we’ve just lost the warp field and dropped to sublight speed,” he said, hands moving over the console as if it was the most natural thing in the world. After a few seconds he shook his head and turned to the captain. “Cause unknown, sir. Best I can do is full impulse.” Pike, wide-eyed, attempted to blink the scene away. _This has to be a nightmare._

“Q,” he said, turning to the nearest man who was still staring at him like he’d grown three heads. “End this _please_. I won’t play this game. We don’t have time.” The man at the communications station turned as his console beeped.

“Sir-“

“ _What?!”_ This Q gave Pike the same worried look his “first officer” was giving him. He swallowed before continuing.

“Sir, we’re being hailed. It’s the admiral.” There was no Federation ship anywhere near the _Discovery_ that could’ve caught them, much less be hailing them now. Pike took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of this nose for a long moment. This game was going to play him whether he wanted to or not.

“On screen.” As expected, Q in an admiral’s uniform filled the viewscreen. This time he looked just as characteristically smug as usual.

“Having trouble, Captain?” he asked, a picture of innocence. Pike stalked forward, back straight as a rod.

“Q, where is my crew?” he asked, working to keep stress and his lack of sleep from bubbling over. Q’s confused smile greeted him.

“You have a crew, Captain.” Pike stared for a long few seconds until Q relented, rolling his eyes. “Don’t worry they’re on leave, Christopher. They’ve just been through _so_ much recently and have hardly had time to really work through what happened with Captain Lorca, the war, not to mention Dr. Culber’s death and, uh, return.” He shrugged, “I thought it would be good for them to take some time off.” Pike shook his head.

“No, no this is not going to work.” He turned around to avoid having to look at Q’s face only to find a whole bridge crew of it staring back at him. He closed his eyes for a second, willing himself calm before turning back around and addressing the viewscreen. “The fate of life in the quadrant is at stake and _I need my crew._ ”

“Captain, I assure you,” Q said seriously, adopting a stern, but understanding admiral’s voice, “you have the finest crew in the universe at your disposal until they get back.” It was all Pike could do to not entirely lose it. He settled for a choked laugh instead.

“Really? Since when do you take orders from anyone, much less me?”

“ _I_ don’t, but that’s because I am an admiral and _your_ direct superior.” Pike snorted, rolling his eyes. “But if they give you any trouble, Captain, believe me I will happily court-martial each and every one of them for insubordination. You just say the word.” Pike took a big breath before slowly letting it out.

“Q,” he said softly, “what is this about? Really?”

“If I told you, it would ruin the point,” Q smiled. “Better get a move on, or you’ll be in prison for treason before long. Admiral Q out.” The viewscreen changed back to the view off the bow. Pike turned to find the bridge crew staring at him expectantly.

“Your orders, Captain?” his “first officer” asked. _This is going to be a long fucking day._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do intend to keep updating this so thank you so much if you're keeping up with it <3

Captain Pike’s mind raced before alighting on an almost absurdly easy solution. There was no way Q would actually let him get away with this, but he might be forced into giving Pike more to work with. If he wanted Pike to play, Q would have to play too. _Or I could be about to lose a really stupid game of chicken, but it wouldn’t be first time I’ve risked the ship on a gamble._ Stepping around his unnerving first officer, he slowly sat in the captain’s chair and willed himself to relax. The bridge was silent for several seconds, his new officers shooting sidelong glances amongst each other. The man (who he absolutely refused to call Commander Q) rubbed the side of his neck in clear distress before asking for orders again. Pike continued to sit.

“I don’t have any. What if,” he turned to look up at Q, “I want to be caught?” Ignoring group’s reactions, he continued airily, “after all we are in direct violation of our orders, are or rather were harboring an alleged murderer, aiding and abetting in any case, and in desperate need of repairs. The _very_ extensive damage to the hull from the mycelial network certainly didn’t go anywhere.” He leaned back in the chair and shrugged, folding his hands in his lap, “and apparently we can’t maintain a warp field so I’m content to sit and hold position here.” It took all his willpower to maintain his nonchalance as his bridge crew fidgeted almost identically. There was a long silence.

“Captain, can I have a word? In your ready room?” the commander said eventually. Pike just looked at him as Q winced. “Please?” Pike sat in the chair fiddling with the controls in the armrests in effort to cover his irritation before standing up and stalking to the ready room, not bothering to check if Q was following. When he heard the sound of the door sliding shut, Pike rounded on the man.

“How many times do I have to say it, Q? I am _not_ playing this game,” he spat. “End this. _Now.”_ Q, to his credit, gave a masterful performance of an introverted and somewhat passive first officer forced to assert himself and protest his captain’s course of action by at first flinching then making a valiant effort to plant his feet and stay the course. It probably should have won an award.

“Captain, I strongly disagree with just sitting here waiting for Starfleet to catch up with us. We have a duty to protect Spock and, like you said, the future of life in the quadrant is at stake. We won’t be able to help anyone from inside a brig awaiting court martial.” Pike’s jaw began to hurt from gritting his teeth. This act was infuriating, humiliating. He felt like a lab rat and with no idea what Q actually wanted, he had no idea how far he would go. _Probably right to the edge of oblivion just to prove he can. If it’s a choice between this and convincing Q that it wouldn’t be more amusing to drop us all off that edge, then I have to pick this. You want me to dance? I’ll dance._ Pike took a deep breath, steeling himself.

“You’re right,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair and falling into the familiar captain’s role. “So priorities: maintaining a warp field so we can disappear in a hurry if we need to, that’s number one.” He paused, thinking, “what about the spore drive? Could we use it in an emergency?” His new first officer tilted his head in a little shrug.

“To be honest, I don’t know much about it. That was Commander Stamets’ territory and, even if we know how to operate it, without him here to navigate, I don’t think it would work anyway.”

“Damn.” Pike mentally crossed _spore drive_ off the list. “Ok first priority is the warp drive then. The warp core itself is online, but we can’t maintain a field. We need to find out why and fix it as soon as possible. Then…” he trailed off looking at Q. He didn’t want to think about the possibility of making it to “then” and not getting his crew back. “We’ll figure out ‘then’ when we get there.” The computer chirped above them with a call from the bridge.

_“Captain, the chief engineer is on the bridge with a report on the status of the warp drive. Request your presence on the bridge.”_

“We’re on our way,” he acknowledged and nodded to Q before walking out the door of his ready room. Unsurprisingly, another Q with the rank of lieutenant waited there, standing next to the captain’s chair with a padd. This one looked a little worse for wear. His uniform was singed in several spots, his hair was in disarray, and he had a massive scowl on his face. “Report, Lieutenant,” Pike ordered.

“Where to begin, sir?” he groaned, handing over the padd and rubbing his forehead. Pike shot him a look before tapping a few prompts to display the images on the padd on the viewscreen and began flipping through them. It was a number of interior images of damaged conduits. The first officer walked forward to get a better look.

“What am I seeing here?” Pike asked. The chief engineer gestured for the padd which Pike handed back to him then changed the display to a particular image.

“ _That_ is from the interior of the port warp nacelle. The one that went through the barrier to the mycelial network when you were,” he paused, holding up his hands to put exaggerated quotations around his next words, “ _’being a doorstop’_. For comparison, here’s the starboard nacelle.” He swiped to the next image. Pike caught the difference immediately. There were hair-line fractures all along the port warp coils. Starboard’s looked pristine. “Those fractures are affecting twenty-five percent the port warp coils,” the engineer continued. “They’re not big enough to start leaking plasma yet, which is just lucky because we could’ve blown the whole _fucking_ nacelle off mid-warp, but now the field collapses as soon as it forms. We’re not going anywhere until those cracks are gone.” Pike frowned, several questions presenting themselves. He picked the most pressing one.

“How the hell did that happen? Verterium cortenide isn’t soft stuff and this ship is barely out of the shipyards.” The chief engineer shook his head before swiping through more images.

“My best guess? It’s the mushrooms. Frankly I don’t know what Starfleet expected putting a barely-existing-within-the-confines-of-the-rational-universe propulsion system on a ship full of scientists with more brains than sense and just letting them go balls to the wall.” Just as Pike took a breath to chastise him for the informal language, the engineer continued on shrugging, “I don’t know. I’m not a mushroom guy, but what I can tell you is those cracks look nothing like any structural fracture I’ve ever seen.” He flipped to a much closer image of the cracks and handed the padd back to Pike. “I’ll tell you what they _do_ look like though. They look like roots.” He paused for what Pike suspected was dramatic effect, looking between him and the first officer. Pike took a long look at the image on the viewscreen and had to agree that was exactly what they looked like. “Anyway,” the chief engineer started again, breezily, as if he were making small talk about the weather, “the good news is I can probably get the warp coils fixed enough to hold a field in a couple of hours, but we’ll need a starbase eventually. That is, if we ever make nice with Starfleet. Any questions, sirs?” Pike glanced at his first officer who shook his head.

“Keep us posted on your progress, Lieutenant and report anything unusual immediately.”

“Do my job, aye, Captain. Can do,” said the engineer, before turning on his heels and leaving the bridge for the turbolift. Pike sat back down in the captain’s chair, mind running through anything they had potentially missed. The first officer walked back to stand next to him.

“I’ll have a conversation about his less than formal conduct when the situation is less critical, Captain,” he muttered primly.

Pike sighed before deadpanning, “I was banking on you all being gone by then.” He was rewarded with the smallest twitch of a grin on his first officer’s face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm lowkey really proud of how the technobabble came out. I spent a lot of time on it.


	3. Chapter 3

All told, things were too quiet. Repairs to the warp coils had been going on for an hour, as uncomplicated as a first semester Academy assignment. Captain Pike had ordered periodic long-range sensor sweeps to give them enough time to detect and hide from any Federation vessel sent looking for them. Of course, those same Federation vessels would also be able to detect a sensor sweep like a sonar ping and potentially follow it back to the _Discovery_. The trick would be to not let them hear it twice. Hence, all the bridge officers minding the conn panels were monitoring for contacts too closely to make conversation.

 _Or Q isn’t so committed to this to talk to himself for hours for my benefit,_ Pike thought bitterly. He had relaxed somewhat while getting a plan together to fix the warp engines, but it felt too easy, too simple. _Why would Q kidnap everyone but me to do a warp coil patch job that by all indications will be fixed within the hour?_ It didn’t make sense and that made him tense. _I didn’t even come up with the plan. I stared at the viewscreen, asked two questions, and had the rest handed to me with a bow on it. If he had what he wanted, he would be gone already. There’s something else. Something I’m not getting._ He shifted uncomfortably in the captain’s chair then glanced around the bridge. The first officer was leaned over in apparent conference with the communications officer. Another sensor sweep went out with no contacts. _I need someone else to talk to. What I wouldn’t give to have Spock or Michael, Stamets, Tilly here. Anyone to get me out of my head._ His fingers drummed on the arm console for minute before he was struck with a sudden need to move and stood up. Every Q on the bridge turned simultaneously to look at him. It was a little spooky. _A lot spooky_.

“Sir?” his first officer said, coming up from the comms panel and making as if to follow him. Pike held up a hand to stop him.

“I’m going to Engineering to put eyes on the repairs. Personal inspection before we run plasma through those coils again. You have the bridge, Commander. Notify me immediately of any contacts.” Q opened his mouth as if to protest, but decided against it and instead gave him a quick nod.

“Aye, Captain,” he said, moving to the captain’s chair. Without another word, Pike turned to the turbolift, feeling eyes burning on the back of his neck.

-

The corridors on the way to Main Engineering proved to be completely empty. Pike slowed from his brisk walk to a stop and leaned against the bulkhead, relishing a chance to think without feeling like he was under a microscope.

“Ok,” he said aloud to himself, “what do I know? One, I’m the only remaining _Discovery_ crewmember.” He paused, suddenly uncertain. _Do I know that for sure?_ Looking up he said, “Computer, report crew complement currently onboard _Discovery_.” The computer chirped as it accepted his question. After a second it replied.

 _“Crew complement currently onboard U.S.S._ Discovery _is Captain Christopher Pike.”_ He waited to see if the computer would continue, but it fell silent. _Damn_.

“Ok starting over,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “One, I _am_ the only remaining crewmember. Two, Q is trying to make a point. Point about what? Me since no one else is here. But what?” He leaned his head back until it was resting against the bulkhead. “Something I’m doing, something I’m not doing. Some angle I’m not thinking about.” An idea occurred to him and suddenly it seemed so obvious. It may not have been the answer he was looking for, but it had to be a start. He kicked off the bulkhead and began walking briskly not in the direction of Main Engineering, but to the Spore Lab.

As the red signals had been present from the word go, Pike hadn’t had enough time since taking command of the _Discovery_ to truly familiarize himself with the operation and limitations of the spore drive. All he needed to know, according to Admiral Cornwall, was _physical distance between A and B doesn’t matter_ and _don’t get spiralized._ Commander Stamets and the rest of the crew seemed to know what to do so up until this point he’d let them do it. Now he felt like kicking himself for such an elementary mistake. He made it a point to know every inch of the _Enterprise_ when he took command, but the chaotic nature of this assignment kept him from really settling in. This wasn’t his ship or his crew and the spore drive was a mystery he’d leave behind once the _Enterprise_ was out of spacedock. And _that_ was the exact kind of attitude for which he could see Q punishing him.

Pike paused as he arrived at the compartment containing the spore drive and the cultivation bay. He’d have to deal with that line of thinking once he got the ship out of danger. _But that has to be it_. _I leaned too heavily on this crew when they were the ones that needed support_. The door hissed open and Pike was surprised to find the room beyond empty. _Fuck,_ he thought, but pressed on; giving his breath print to the cultivation bay door in a vain hope that someone who could help him was there. He was greeted with the bluish mushrooms and swirling spores, but no people, not even Q masquerading as a crew member. Disappointed, he backed out of the bay, intending to change tactics and use the computer terminals scattered around the room to pull up any notes Stamets may have left behind that could help. Before he could begin to look, a flash of light and sound behind him made him jump. He turned and the flash resolved into Lt. Commander Stamets who looked just as startled as Pike felt. His face lit up when their eyes met.

“Captain?” he said standing very still with his eyes flitting about the room as if he wasn’t sure the ship was real and moving would destroy the illusion. “What’s happening?”

“It’s,” Pike paused, deciding against trying to explain Q and accompanying weirdness, “difficult to explain.” He walked forward and put a comforting hand on Stamets’ shoulder which seemed to help him relax. “Where were you before you were here? Was the rest of the crew with you? Are they safe?” Stamets nodded, grimacing slightly. 

“The whole crew is accounted for, excluding you of course, sir, but hey you’re here so that’s something. As for where we are, uh,” he scratched the back of his head, unsure of how to proceed, “we’re on a beach.” Pike blinked.

“A beach.”

“Yeah, but it’s weird. It’s nowhere any of us recognize and there’s nothing for miles around as far as the tricorders can tell. Just... beach.”

“So that’s what Q meant by ‘on leave’ then,” he sighed. Stamets frowned.

“What’s Q?”

“Who not what.” Pike took a deep breath and prepared the abridged version. “The _Enterprise_ encountered a lot of… well strange would be underselling it a bit but, _strange_ things while on our mission into deep space. Q was one of them. As far as we can tell he’s one of a species whose existence and technology is so different from our own that... well...”

“Teleporting over a hundred people off a starship at warp to god knows where isn’t out of the question?”

“Yeah. All I know right now is he got it in his head the crew needed some leave time. And from what the _Enterprise_ saw of his powers, I wouldn’t be too surprised if he created that beach. Fortunately for us and for humanity he seems pretty content just poking us with a stick to see what we’ll do as opposed to anything actively malicious.”

“Wonderful,” Stamets rolled his eyes. “Well, he could’ve made us some sunscreen... or swimsuits. Getting sand in your uniform sort of sucks all the fun out of it.” There was a forced quality to Stamets’ words. Underneath his nonchalance Pike could see he had visibly paled. After a beat Stamets asked, “so, sir, why weren’t you taken with the rest of us? And how did I get back to the ship?” 

Pike quickly ran through everything that had happened since he’d been summoned from his quarters to the bridge, including that this seemed to be a test for him in particular. He did leave out his private thoughts as to Q’s specific motives, not wanting to burden Stamets with his uncertainties in his leadership especially if overburdening a stressed crew was what got him into this mess in the first place. When he had finished, Stamets was deep in thought.

“Twenty five percent of the port warp coils were so damaged by mycelia we can’t maintain a warp field? That doesn’t seem right,” he mused, waking a terminal to pull up the images from Engineering. “How were we able to go to warp at all after we got out of the mycelial network? The red signal over Kaminar appeared right after that so we had no time to go to a starbase. Unless… oh my god.” He looked up at Pike, who was looking a little lost. “The damage wasn’t that extensive when we left the mycelial network. It had to have developed after.”

“So what caused it, if not mycelia?” Pike asked. Stamets shook his head.

“No, I’m certain mycelia _did_ cause it. I knew the ship would be attacked as soon as we entered network, but I never considered whatever we found in there could root in the ship’s systems itself. Do you know how long it took me to create that environment in the cultivation bay? Years and years of trial and error. That’s why I’m not terribly concerned when the occasional spore gets out the door. They’re so finicky they die if you look at them wrong. But whatever did this—” he gestured at the cracks shown on the holoscreen, “—is something else entirely.” Pike nodded, thinking.

“So what you saying is: we picked up spores of whatever was eating the ship in the mycelial network that continued to grow, even after we left for Kaminar, in the warp coils with extremely high temperature warp plasma flowing through them until we couldn’t generate a field anymore.” Pike took a deep breath. Something was bothering him, something not quite right. Then it clicked. “So where are they? The mycelia? We should be able to see something that formed cracks that big and, if it was growth over several days that caused all this, they couldn’t have been incinerated by the warp plasma. Engineering hasn’t found any evidence of anything growing in the nacelle or on the hull.” Stamets’ hands began moving quickly over the holoscreen, overlaying different filters on the image of the warp coils.

“See I thought of that. Maybe it’s something _we_ can’t see, but if I—” With a flash, he vanished. _Damn it, no!_ At the same moment the ship’s comms system chimed as it opened a channel.

 _“Engineering to Captain Pike,”_ Q’s chief engineer’s voice drawled over the comms, sounding bored. “ _We’re all finished up here, sir, and are going to run plasma to see if we can get a stable field. Nothing unusual to report… uh… let me know if you’ve got any questions. Engineering out.”_ Pike suddenly felt like his blood had turned to ice. He immediately bolted towards the compartment door and out into the corridor.

“Computer, report current _Discovery_ crew complement!” he shouted as he began running towards Main Engineering.

 _“Crew complement currently onboard U.S.S._ Discovery _is Captain Christopher Pike,”_ the computer responded.

“Damn! Computer, open a channel to engineering!” The computer chirped to indicate the channel was open. Pike fought hard to keep the panic out of his voice as he ran. “Pike to Engineering, do _not_ attempt to generate a warp field. I repeat do not—” A shockwave from the port side of the ship threw him off his feet and into a bulkhead. He stayed conscious long enough to see the lighting change, indicating a red alert had gone out from the bridge before darkness washed over him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've really been enjoying writing this. Let me know what you think!


End file.
